


Off We Leap

by shortystylee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Coworkers to Knitting Buddies, Fluff, It started out with headcanon how did it end up like this?, Lots of talk about knitting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Possible Hand Kink, just go with it, sort of a crack!fic, what even is this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-07 19:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17371778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortystylee/pseuds/shortystylee
Summary: It's tedious being a high-ranking general in the First Order, and while Hux finds his work life satisfying, it's afterhours where he finds himself bored out of his mind. A surprise find leads him to pick up a knitting, a lost skill from his youth. It does the job, until he starts handing out hats and scarves anonymously to crewmembers, and then, to Kylo Ren.A crack!fic about Hux's new hobby, his crush on the Supreme Leader, and the awkward situations it gets him into.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to T, who helped this go from a few out-of-nowhere sentences in Facebook messenger, to whatever the heck it is now.

He isn’t certain what the other officers and crew do to stave off the boredom of basically living in a hunk of metal that floats about in space. Many had families, children, to help with that. He knows almost all of them, especially the lower ranking non-Trooper officers, had friends - he’d hear passing conversation between groups in the hallways, or during their shifts, or if he was unable to get food delivered and had to make an appearance in the cafeteria. But this was no pleasure cruiser. There was no bar or club, though one could buy alcohol from the cafeteria during dinner hours, or whenever from the commissary. No game rooms or theaters either. There was a large library, attached to the school, which was open to everyone, as well as a warm weather conservatory with huge, clear windows and real plants, where many of the crew spent their spare time, probably pretending they were off on shore leave.

Though Hux sees no issue with reading, and there have been several true crime or historical non-fiction authors he’s enjoyed in the past, he finds that nowadays he reads quite enough just doing his daily work, that his eyes hurt at the thought of more reading. He reads mission reports during his lunch break in the cafeteria, and then more of the similar in his quarters during the dinner the droids deliver.

And while he does find it fascinating that the botanical workers are able to construct a room to sustain the lives of thousands of tropical plants as they’ve done, relaxing in the conservatory comes with one nagging problem - the climate. It’s hot, and humid, and the last time he visited he found himself nearly sweating through his uniform. As a general of his rank, he has a certain standard to keep, and though many others seem fine with visiting the conservatory in their civilian clothes, he does not.

A solution presents itself to him during a business trip off-ship, to a meeting with a few other high-ranked officers and business leaders. There was downtime before the meeting started, and since he was only staying until right afterwards, not overnight, he had no hotel room to retire to in hopes of a quick nap. The streets surrounding the restaurant were full of every kind of shop imaginable, and jam packed with people doing errands or leisurely window shopping. He still was not completely used to how the crowds of people parted for him, and was not sure if it was due to the security Trooper who followed close behind, or that rousing speech he gave on Starkiller. Personally, he hoped it was the latter.

Most of the shops weren’t any that would pique his interest, though he did browse through a shop selling old-fashioned ink pens, eventually choosing one made of polished wood with a good weight to it. He’d stopped into another, telling his security detail to wait outside, only to come out with a freshly baked strawberry frosted cupcake and a warning: _you will not include this stop in your report._

He was almost back to the restaurant when he stopped so abruptly that the Trooper had to side step to avoid him. The shop was a yarn store, it’s front display windows full of yarns of all different colors and origins, from delicate fingering yarn, to woolen blends, to large swafts of unspun cotton candy-like fluff you could spin yourself, if you were so inclined.

“Please wait here,” Hux commanded, before entering, grimacing when the bells attached to the door announced his presence.

 _This_ was what he could do in his downtime. During his youth, before he was old enough to join a military academy, his father had signed him up for scouting - young Armitage made it his mission to get as many of merit badges as possible. This included, amongst many others, a knitting badge.

And what he found out, was that he was good. Quite good indeed.

He needed new everything, buying up different sized needles, a number of skeins of yarn, stitch counters. When he was outside again, he shoved the bag at the Trooper. “Take these back to the ship, and though it goes without saying, you will also not include this in your report either.”

The only problem with his little hobby, he finds, is probably the age-old conundrum that comes with knitting - he is only one person - and one person does not need all of the hats, scarves, or gloves that come with knitting. Nor does he really have the opportunity to wear such things, given the uniform requirements and his own personal appearance standards.

What one normally would do, would be to give those items to friends and family, as birthday presents or for other holidays. It makes sense, but also is not a practical solution for him.

For starters, although he sees nothing emasculating about his chosen hobby, he can’t shake the memories of the other scouts when they found out that he had continued knitting after receiving the merit badge. Those little hooligans were the children that grew up and became the other officers aboard the ship, and it would not do to have his authority undermined. Hux considers none of them _friends,_ anyways.

And then the thought of giving his creations as family gifts, which would’ve been ridiculous even if he had the family to give them to. Hux laughs aloud, alone in his quarters at the mere thought of presenting his father with a handmade scarf.

Truthfully, everything he’s made is starting to clutter up his quarters, and he knows he must find some solution. Simply throwing them away would work, but also seems unnecessarily wasteful. One evening, when the commissary droid delivers the new watch batteries he’d requested, Hux has a sudden stroke of genius.

Or lunacy. Though, the two are often the same, he supposes.

Wishing to remain anonymous, he doles out his finished projects by having droids deliver them to people he choses. The passcodes afforded to officers of his rank allow him to remain a mystery to the receiver. What does prove difficult, is deciding who to send them to. Hux could access the full passenger list from Human Resources and simply choose people at random, but that doesn’t seem the right way to go about it.

It’s true, that he doesn’t exactly have friends, but there are a number of officers and crew members with which, _somehow,_ he’s been able to establish a certain rapport with. There’s Carmichael, in engineering, with whom he converses with from time to time about the latest advances in hyperdrive tech - a subject which will undoubtedly prove helpful to their fleet and which she seems to have boundless information on. He sends a droid with two matching hat and scarf sets, for her and her partner Talla, who he thinks works in electrical.  

Mendelsohn, a young man with hair so white blonde it reminds him of Phasma, with whom he shares the interest of biographies of Old Republic politicians. Hux sends him a pair of gloves, remembering that the climate controls are set lower in the computers systems rooms where he works, and also makes a note in his scheduler to go down and pester the medical droids about what in blazes is taking so long with Phas’ recovery. That woman had a dry sense of humor that he could appreciate, and surprisingly has started to miss.

Eventually, he starts to run out of recipients. He doesn’t know _everyone_ , there’s thousands of nameless Troopers aboard and just as many crew to keep this ship on line. When his comms beeps at him one morning, while he’s taking breakfast in his quarters, he groans at the recognition of the slightly different set of beeps. He knows by the sounds that it’s Kylo Ren, but what he wants, over an hour before standard duty shifts begin, who even knows. _Does that man not eat breakfast?_

It’s not that Hux doesn’t want to talk to him. It’s easier like this, over the comm. He can’t see, for one thing, and his voice always seemed a little different this way. He answers the call and finds himself with a new task to complete today, as he should’ve expected. It’s not like the Supreme Leader would call to chat. A smirk crosses his face at the idea of that, of hearing his comm chirp and answering it to find that its Kylo on the other end of the line, wanting to have friendly talk about both theirs days, plans for dinner, afterwards.

Alright, so he’s sort of… _interested_ in Kylo. A passing curiosity. In the one being on this ship that is more aloof and untouchable than he is. Hux definitely is not infatuated, does not have a crush on him, to use that childish phrase. It’s just that he knows that if someone as admittedly unapproachable as himself was able to have interests and hobbies, even passing acquaintances, that it made sense that Kylo Ren must also have some sort of hidden interests - he’s still a person, not a protocol droid, after all.

And oh, how Hux wants to find out everything.

Maybe he enjoys melodium music, he wonders. He knows there’s a separate training room in his quarters - something he learned while studying the ship schematics. For emergency purposes, in case anything happens. Not because he wonders what it would be like to be in Kylo’s personal space. Maybe special additional means he enjoys other types of combat arts. Hux knows Kylo was well-educated during his youth, and likes to imagine they have some shared interests in history, or one of the sciences.

He thinks all this, enjoying the small daydream of having vibrant, engaging discussions with him, except --

Except, it’s been too distracting, ever since he stopped wearing that ridiculous mask and Hux has been forced to look at his stupid beautiful face every time he talked with him.

Daily, when he reported to the bridge for the morning’s updates? Their proximity means Hux is assaulted by pale skin dotted by beauty marks, high, sharp cheekbones, and that scar that doesn't distract from his features, but only serves to make him seem more formidable.

Weekly, during strategic planning meetings held in the war room, with Kylo and two other officers, surrounded by holos of officers from other ships? It wasn’t just the full lips, or how they moved, or pursed together as he thought, but the confident, commanding tone carried by the words that came out of them, each phrase precisely chosen.

And every so often, when they’d pass each other in the hallways during that weird lull between dinner and third shift change? All Kylo does is nod to acknowledge his presence, a simple impersonal gesture, yet all Hux saw was how the slight movement rustled Kylo’s long hair, looking more like he belonged on a fashion billboard than ruling.

Maybe… maybe Hux _has_ found himself quite enamored with possibly the least available person ever. How does one even go about confessing feelings for the Supreme Leader? He almost longs for Snoke’s leadership, this certainly hadn’t been an issue with _that_ Supreme Leader. But he knows it’s not the position that’s fueling his infatuation, certainly the power it gives him helps a bit, but he’s got the inclination that he’d be mulling over this even if Kylo’s face and that voice belonged to a cantina server on the bottom levels of Coruscant.

He swears that Hoth would turn into the galaxy’s hottest summer vacation destination before Kylo has any idea about his feelings.

That doesn’t mean Hux can’t get some amount of joy out of sending one of his knitted creation’s Kylo’s way.

XxXxX

A week later, upon getting to the command bridge at the start of his shift, Hux is stunned to see Kylo actually wearing the scarf, in public. Stunned enough, it seems, to even comment on it.

"Supreme Leader, that is quite the scarf you're wearing today. Should I get maintenance to adjust the climate settings on the ship?"

He walks up to Kylo, standing a half-step behind him, their usual routine. But now, it allows him to admire his handiwork - a bright red base color, with two intricate rows of cable along the length, dotted with First Order insignia. It doesn’t clash as horribly with his uniform as he worried it might, or against the paleness of his face. In fact, Hux notices, he thinks the red may even bring out some color in Kylo’s cheeks, or maybe he’s just imagining things.  

"That won't be necessary, General. What the commissary droid dropped off is more than sufficient."

Hux stops himself from sighing audibly in relief. _Stupid man, why would you suggest that the temperature get upped? He won't wear it if it's boiling hot in here._ “As you wish,” he replies, then goes to make his leave. Too much talk of the scarf and it would definitely raise his suspicions.

"Wait, Hux. I want you to go down to the commissary and have the droids deliver these to all the A-Level ranked officers. I suppose a well-rounded uniform should include some sort of… cold weather garments." 

Hux stops, his face paling. For a moment, he thinks it may be a joke, then remembers who he’s talking to. He turns back around to face Kylo, knowing better than to continue the conversation with his back turned. "...all 236 aboard this ship, sir?" 

”Is that the number?" Hux nods. "Then yes, all 236 of them."

_So much for sleeping for the next… year._

XxXxX

A week later —

Hats are the quickest thing that Hux can make, except maybe pot holders… but no. He didn’t want to make Kylo a hat, he spent too much time hiding that amazing hair of his under that helmet, he didn't want to give him a hat to hide it under now. So, he’s stuck in his room for the discernible future make scarf after scarf for hundreds of officers.

He’s made three so far, and is almost certain he’s going to be in sickbay asking a droid for arthritis meds before the next week is up.

This evening, after dinner and a shower, he didn’t even bother fully drying his hair, just threw on pajamas, brewed a mug of tea, and got to work.

It’s been a real shit of a week - aside from work issues, his hands ache, he’s dying to work with yarn that isn’t black or red, and yesterday evening, Millicent somehow not only got out of his quarters, but was batting a yarn ball down one of the central corridors. Adorable as it may have been, it would not be adorable for anyone and everyone to see one of the highest ranking First Order officers chasing his cat through the ship.

When his room buzzer sounds for the first time, he ignores it. _2100 hours and someone is knocking at my door? Does no one have manners anymore?_ He continues his work, hoping they’ll think he’s out, or asleep, and go away.

Whoever it is, they don’t.

Not three seconds later, the buzzer goes off again, for longer this time, as if the rude person has simply held their finger down on the button.

Hux lets out an annoyed huff, setting his quarter of the way done scarf to the side, and presses the reply buzzer on the side table.

“What is it?” He spits the words out, hoping maybe it’s a young cadet who will recognize his voice and realize he has the wrong door.

“It’s Kylo Ren.”

_Fuck._

_So this is how I end up living in the brig._ He’s seen Kylo punish officers for that tone of voice before.

Time to apologize, maybe toss in some groveling - Hux can do that.

“Oh, s- sorry, sir. I’ll be right there.”

Frantically, he grabs a throw pillow and covers his knitting with it, and pulls on a dressing gown over his pajamas. He knows he’s adding inappropriate dress to his current list of offenses, but he’d rather it be that than leave the Supreme Leader waiting while he put on his uniform.

Hux takes a deep breath and presses the button to open his door, going immediately into his explanation.

“I apologize for my appearance, Supreme Leader. I was not expecting you,” Hux tries to explain. “Is there something urgent you’d like me to take care of?”

Internally, He winces at his words. _Well, that sounded sexual._ If Kylo notices any innuendo, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“It’s come to my attention that a large number of people aboard this ship, myself included, have been receiving handmade items. I had assumed they were being passed out from the commissary, but I’ve now come to realize that they’re made by you.”

Hux feels whatever little color is in his face drain from it. Deep down, he knows there are no rules about knitting or giving gifts, and surely not when he does those things on his own time, but… but something must be amiss if Kylo is personally questioning him about it.

“Supreme Leader, let me explain… it does not, will not, distract from my duties. Knitting is simply something I do in my free time, trying to keep my idle hands busy—”

When Kylo raises his hand, Hux immediately shuts up. “You’re not under interrogation, General. As long as what you’re doing in your downtime isn’t disparaging to our appearances or plotting a coup, I’ve really no complaint.”

Hux isn’t a religious man, but he thanks the gods of every religion he can recall. Though glad he’s not being reprimanded or sent away for punishment, now he’s even more confused. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his he usually tamps down, before he musters the courage to question Kylo on his motives. “If it’s no matter to you, may I ask why you’re bringing it up?”

Now that his heart rate has lowered back down to where it should be, Hux starts to notice that something in Kylo’s demeanor is off. Not by much, no. But Hux works alongside the man day in and day out, more than anyone else, he guesses. There’s a hint of uncertainty in the usually very self-assured voice.

“My, um, research in the area of the fabric arts culture has shown that most enjoy this activity in the company of others, often in front of a fireplace, with a hot beverage.”

“That... is correct, Supreme Leader.”

“There is a fireplace in my quarters. It's synthetic, but I figured it would suffice if you ever wanted... company.”

Kylo waves a gloved hand in the air, gesturing as if he doesn’t know what to do with that last word.

Hux doesn’t know what to do with it either, or the whole invitation - he hopes his mouth isn’t gaped open like some type of river fish. _Can I even refuse,_ he wonders. _Not that I want to but…_ Kylo had posed the invitation like there was the option to not join him, and when the Supreme Leader himself invites you to come over, to his own personal quarters… well, Hux is fairly certain that no one declines.

He clears his throat before he speaks. “Yes, I think I’d be amenable to…” _Stop it,_ he thinks. _The business voice. For fucks sake, Armitage, you’re going to hang out, as they say, you might as well try to sound a bit more congenial._ “I think I would enjoy some company, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kylo walks past the door he  _ knows _ is Hux’s at least three times, as well as needlessly rechecking his quarters’ location number on his datapad. It was his, no error. All he needs to do is press a finger to the buzzer and that he’s so fucking scared to push a damn doorbell just because it’s Armitage Hux on the other side is messing with his head. 

He’s the Supreme Leader, of all people he shouldn’t be afraid to confront one of his own generals, a subordinate, just because he’s so… so…

So incredibly magnificent. 

Finally, through some hidden bit of courage he found, he reaches out, pressing the intercom buzzer. There’s no reply, but he knows that Hux is in there, he had the ship’s intelligence confirm it. So, he holds the button down again, for few seconds longer this time. 

A beat passes, and then Hux’s voice comes through the intercom. “What is it?” His tone is harsh and clipped, that annoyed sound he’s heard him use before with lower ranking officers. At first, it causes a blip of anger to run through Kylo, that he has such gall to talk to him in that manner… but then he realizes that its afterhours and Hux has no idea who is at the door. 

“It’s Kylo Ren.”

Kylo is trying not to reach out with the Force to sense him, but he can’t help it - he feels Hux’s fear that he’s really messed things up this time. 

“Oh, s- sorry, sir. I’ll be right there.”

Moments later, a delightfully frazzled General Hux answers the door, his hair just slightly off-kilter, and a light blue dressing gown pulled over what look like black pajama pants and most likely a t-shirt. 

“I apologize for my appearance, Supreme Leader. I was not expecting you.” Hux apologizes. “Is there something urgent you’d like me to take care of?”

_ Me,  _ Kylo thinks,  _ in my quarters. _ The idea comes quickly, and he blames it on seeing the normally fastidious general looking ready for bed. Of course he has bed clothes, Kylo doesn’t suppose Hux sleeps in his uniform, even he doesn’t do that. What he had imagined though was always a something black or gray, a two piece matching set where the button up top had a collar, and it was always ironed. He finds he likes this look too, though it’s much more distracting than what he’d imagined. 

“It’s come to my attention that a large number of people aboard this ship, myself included, have been receiving handmade items. I had assumed they were being passed out from the commissary, but I’ve now come to realize that they’re made by you.”

He didn’t think that Hux’s face could blanche, what with how pale he is already, but it manages to do so. 

“Supreme Leader, let me explain… it does not, will not, distract from my duties. Knitting is simply something I do in my free time, trying to keep my idle hands busy—”

Kylo silences him with a raised hand. “You’re not under interrogation, General. As long as what you’re doing in your downtime isn’t disparaging to our appearances or plotting a coup, I’ve really no complaint.”

Hux visibly relaxes, shifting his weight from one foot to another, then running a hand through his close cut hair. “If it’s no matter to you, may I ask why you’re bringing it up?”

And here’s another part Kylo was worried about. He’s gone over what he’d like to say so many times, the mirror in his refresher probably has it memorized. 

"My, um, research in the area of the fabric arts culture has shown that most enjoy this activity in the company of others, often in front of a fireplace, with a hot beverage." Kylo hopes Hux gets the gist of what he's suggesting, but the man still looks as if he's readying himself to be thrown out an airlock.  _ If we tossed people out of airlocks for their choice of after work activities, we’d have no goddamn crew left.  _

"That... is correct, Supreme Leader."

"There is a fireplace in my quarters. It's synthetic, but I figured it would suffice if you ever wanted... company."

He can see the gears turning in Hux’s head, trying to figure out if Kylo is playing at something. 

_ Why now?  _ Because the opportunity never presented itself previously. 

_ Why him? _ He wishes Hux didn’t have to ask himself that but… it’s been him since he first laid eyes on him. 

_ Why knitting? _ Well, your guess is as good as any. 

Finally, Hux nods his head, almost imperceptibly, but Kylo notices. He clears his throat before he speaks. “Yes, I think I’d be amenable to…” His voice trails off, and then his words change from the formal, business meeting tone to something more familiar. “I think I would enjoy some company, sir.”

Suddenly, Kylo wishes he hadn’t smashed his helmet to bits in that turbolift. It’d be easier to have it shielding his face, not showing off his attempts to ward of the smile that’s threatening to break out. 

XxXxX

A few evenings later —

The next bit, after Kylo collected himself, had gone smoothly. They discussed schedules and timing, and it flowed easily since it felt more akin to planning a council meeting - something they both were capable of - as long as he didn’t let his mind wander back to the reason for the planning. 

They’d decided that in the evening, three days later, worked for both of them, though Kylo had a feeling he could’ve proposed right at that very moment and Hux would’ve gathered up his project immediately. But, with his schedule and the hassle of working with officers and politicians all across the galaxy and across different time zones, it was the first available chunk of time he had. Of course, they see each other daily, and he can’t help but feel like there’s this little secret between the two of them, a burgeoning friendship, or more, if he dares allow himself to hope. 

When the day finally arrives, he manages to keep it together until around 1600 hours, his schedule being so packed full that at times he even forgets about the plans. But finally, somewhere in the mid-afternoon as he’s walking the hallway with a group of officers from one meeting to the next, Hux passes by, going the other way. Though he steps aside and allows Kylo and the others to pass by, this time, instead of just the perfunctory head nod, Hux finds his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment. He actually thinks he saw the hint of a smirk on the general’s face. 

It makes the nerves he’s been trying to avoid come back at full force. 

One officer or another, he forgets exactly who this one is, continues going on about the latest intel she’s received from her spies, and while he concedes it’s important, Kylo has had about enough. It was proving difficult to concentrate earlier, and then Hux walks by? Impossible. 

“Is there a full report available?” He interjects at a pause.

“Yes, Supreme Leader, of cour—”

“See that it gets sent directly to me. And, um, keep up the good work, Admiral.” 

Kylo turns on his heel and heads off in the other direction, towards the housing section. He’s halfway to his room before he realizes he just praised someone on their work. 

Once back at his quarters, he switches on the cleaning droid to go over everything once more, just for good measure. He’s able to take his time to get ready, since he’s had everything else planned for a full two days. It’s almost comical, his mind hasn’t been able to concentrate on anything except this evening’s … appointment?  _ No, appointments are for business.  _

Date?  _ His heart starts racing at the thought. What? Nope. Definitely not ready for that.  _

Get-together?  _ Better.  _

The night he’d showed up at Hux’s door, on the walk back, he passed a group of officers headed towards the cafeteria for dinner, and that’s when he noticed their casual clothes. The realization dawned on him that perhaps it’d be odd to meet Hux wearing his normal layers upon layers. 

So, he did what any morally-suspect Force-sensitive awkward man would do. 

He cornered an off-duty crew member, questioned them on where they get civilian clothing when they were off-world, and then wiped their memory. 

Kylo had taken the man’s advice, easily finding the Holonet store he’d recommended - it even had a program that asked him questions to help make selections. He put in his measurements and selected certain descriptions: comfortable, casual, warm. He quirked an eyebrow up at  _ good first impression, _ but clicked it anyways. Overall, though it was far from what he was used to wearing, he was pleased with the clothes that were dropped off with this morning’s freight delivery. The button-down dress shirt was a crisp bright white, which he guessed was alright, since most everything else was in darker shades, and really, only the collar showed over the top of the lightweight heather gray sweater that went over the top. His pants were dark denim jeans, which he’s rolled up once at the hem to mirror the way the clothing model wore them, which he assumes is to show off the weathered slate-colored lace-up suede boots that came with it. The last piece was a mottled navy sweater, clearly intended as outerwear given the heavier fabric, with an open front and a shawl collar that was similar to some of the formal robes he wore. 

It wasn’t just clothes though, Kylo spent the previous evening digging through the various menus from the catering department. After much more hemming and hawing than what probably necessary, he decided on a couple trays of cheese, fruit, and pastries, having figured that since he has no clue what type of foods Hux enjoys, that it’d be prudent to get plenty of options.

As Kylo expects, the entry comm to his quarters buzzes at exactly 1900. He knows that Hux is punctual, and has heard others saying they could set their clocks by him, as if that’s a bad thing.

“Good evening,” Hux greets him when the door whooshes open, his tone light and casual, like this is something they normally did - their usual Thursday thing.  _ Oh, if only it was… _ since then, then Kylo wouldn’t have dumbly parroted the words back at him, still standing stock-still blocking his own doorway, trying his best not to eye fuck his highest ranking general. 

Because goddamn, does Armitage Hux clean up nice. 

He’s dressed even more casually than Kylo - a button-down in a bright burnt orange color, with its short sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone, it hugs the muscles in his chest and arms that were always hidden under the stiff, starched First Order uniforms he wore. It’s tucked into navy blue chinos, fitted around his narrow hips and cropped, showing off pale ankles and a pair of stylish brown leather dress shoes. Hux’s hair is even done differently, not slicked back on top, looking only like he’d blow dried it and let it settle where it pleased. 

Kylo might have picked his outfit straight off a model on a holonet store, but Hux looks like he could actually be one of the models.  _ At least he has a back-up career in case First Order General doesn’t pan out.  _

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Yes!” Kylo replies quickly, and a bit too loudly. “Of course,” he says as he steps aside, his voice calmer now. “I’m not used to seeing you out of uniform.”

“I could say the same to you,” Hux replies as he walks past, a smile on his lips as he nods at Kylo. “I like your sweater,” he adds, and Kylo feels himself beam at the simple compliment. It was genuine, not how most people complimented his ideas out of self-preservation. He takes a sharp intake of breath as Hux reaches out and takes a hold of the open front of his cardigan, feeling the material between his thumb and pointer fingers. “Real wool, too. You know, if I knew you wore clothing like this, I could’ve made you something.” “I don’t normally,” Kylo admits. “I consulted the computer for this.” “Well, kudos to whoever did the programming. It suits you.” He watches as Hux continues his slow walk into the room, and sets down a canvas messenger bag on one of the chairs surrounding the dining table. _Say something, Kylo, say something. He said something, now it’s_ your _turn, or he’ll just say something again and —_

“That is quite the spread.” Kylo’s eyes dart to Hux, who’s eyeing the table full of platters of finger foods curiously. “I’m glad I haven’t had dinner yet.”

Suddenly, Kylo is very pleased he had the catering department deliver all this food. He’s pleased, but that seems not to stop him from acting like teenager with zero personal skills when it came to these sorts of situations. It is decidedly un-Supreme Leader-like how he always ends up nervous and stammering when he’s alone with Hux. 

“Oh, well, that’s great then. Not that it’s great that you’re hungry, just that I may have gone overboard with my catering order. And there’s tea, or hot cocoa... I’ve got coffee too, but at this time in the evening I wasn’t sure if the caffeine would keep you awake later and --” He stops his monologue immediately when he feels Hux puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"Tea would be lovely. My usual is 15-A, the jasmine mint, if you don’t mind.” Hux tells him, relaying the number it’s listed under in the programmable machine standard in their quarters. Kylo is still stuck in place, with Hux’s hand lingering on his shoulder as he tells him his drink preference, but he finally pulls it away once he sees Kylo nod in acknowledgement. 

Now that he has a task to complete, even one as mind-numbingly easy as getting Hux the tea he’d like, Kylo starts to feel a bit more at ease. He goes through the motions of “making” the tea - refills the water container on the side, chooses one of the standard-issue cream-colored ceramic mugs from the cupboard above the machine, and presses the buttons on the number pad for 15-A after placing the cup in its respective space. While he already has a good idea of how Hux’s day has been, he asks him anyways, hoping that a bit of smalltalk will ease his nerves and create some semblance of normalcy to what they’re doing.

And it works. 

If Hux thinks it's at all strange for Kylo to ask about something that he’ll certainly receive a detailed report on later, he doesn’t make any show of it. Instead, he starts in on his day, going over what he did which much more storyteller details than he ever put in one of his reports he brings the mug of hot tea over when it's done, Hux stopping his train of thought briefly to thank him, then continuing on. He's always sort of dreaded going through the officers’ daily reports, but the way Hux goes on about his day - adding in his off-the-record thoughts, unnecessarily detailed descriptions of certain crew members - he feels himself drawn into what would otherwise be a mundane work day. Of course, he's seen the general’s stirring speeches, but he hadn't thought he would be so… engaging in real life, when he's just talking one-on-one and not trying to stir up nationalistic fervor in a crowd. 

Kylo makes himself a drink at the machine as well, watching Hux meticulously pile fruits and miniature pastries onto a plate as he winds up on a tangential story. He fills up a plate with food for himself, his stomach reminding him that he’s yet to eat anything that evening either, and continues listening to Hux’s stories, nodding his head and interjecting a few thoughts in agreement as he works on the food on his plate. 

“... I guess I’ll need to keep abreast of all the details though,” Hux adds, finishing up his story about his meeting the other week with a newly elected official from Socorro. “If I ever wanted to get promoted and get some better living quarters. Mine does  _ not  _ have that fancy fireplace.” 

_ That’s right, the fireplace, _ Kylo remembers. One of the things he pointed out to Hux to try to make his room more appealing, though he wonders now if all that was even necessary. “Do you want to go sit over there?” He nods towards the couch set off to the side of the fireplace. “It’s more comfortable than these chairs.”

Hux agrees, and Kylo makes his way the few meters over to the living area, turning on the fireplace before sitting in his normal spot on the left side of the couch. Hux follows his lead, taking his mug with him, along with his plate of fruit and the messenger bag he’d brought with him. “So, do you intend to just watch me all evening?”

_ Well, that certainly is an enticing idea, _ Kylo thinks, watching Hux as he crosses the room. The question illuminates a hole in Kylo’s otherwise thorough planning - just what  _ did  _ he intend to do while Hux knitted? Put on some music? A film? Creepily watch?

Lucky for him, Hux seems to have a solution.

“I brought another set of needles. I can teach you, if you like." Hux catches his eyes and gives a smile, just for a moment, before he reaches into his bag and pulls out the extra set.

It’s not an offer Kylo expected. “I'm afraid I've never been very dexterous." "With your lightsaber skills, somehow I think you work just fine with your hands."

Kylo raises a single eyebrow at the comment, sure that the connotation was not a mistake, and when he looks up to see Hux’s  at his words, almost prettily. 

He joins Kylo on the couch, sitting closer to him than most would dare get.  "You'll, um. Sorry, but you'll need to remove your gloves." _Gloves?_ He thinks. _Why would I be wearing my… oh._ When he looks down at his hands, he realizes his must’ve been on autopilot getting dressed earlier, even though he was putting on completely different clothing. Without arguing, Kylo complies, mumbling out something about it being a habit..  He would've never imagined that someone like Hux, who often carried himself so aloof, so standoffish and distant, would be so hot to the touch. Then again, he never imagined that Hux would be able to so effortlessly shrug off that stick-up-his-ass demeanor, as the crew puts it,  He takes both of Kylo's hands in his, positioning the long wooden needles in the correct way, making minute adjustments. He can't recall the last time someone else's skin was on his, and the feeling is maddening.

Hux must notice his reaction. "Are you okay, Supreme Leader?" Kylo nods. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" No reply. "Carry on then, if you're going to teach me."  Hux continues, talking about casting on and creating the foundation for a piece, only pausing once to confirm that Kylo is right-handed, and ask if he knows how to make a slipknot. _Of course, I do, you idiot,_ Kylo thinks, somewhat amused the words didn't actually escape. He listens and nods instead of talking back, and fastens a slipknot of yarn around one needle.  That's when he realizes that maybe this was a bad idea. Getting taught. All he’s prepared himself for was being in Hux’s company, not having him so close or his hands roaming across his. 

Once he's done with the knot, Hux's hands, those warm hands that somehow aren't calloused from combat training or the dry from the stale recycled air of the ship, they're on his again, holding the yarn at the same time and explaining his movements to cast on stitches.

Hux counts the stitches, twenty of them in total, and by end Kylo has began to count along, just under his breath, as he tries to take in the movement behind them. There's a pause once Hux's hands retreat, and he takes the time to inspect this first simple row, a bit amazed that this becomes the other items he's seen.  “May I see that?" Hux asks, gesturing for the project. Kylo passes it over, and his jaw drops as he watches that infernal man unravel all of it.  “What the fresh hell did you —”  


Hux interrupts him, passing the needles and yarn back. “Your turn. I can't be here to hold your hands every time, sir.”

_ But you could, _ Kylo thinks.  _ I could literally command you.  _

“Could you now, Supreme Leader?”

_ Fuck.  _

He looks up from the yarns and needles in his lap to Hux’s face, “That was… aloud?”

Hux rolls his eyes, but lets a bit of a smile show through. That smile and lack of confirmation tells Kylo that yes, yes he did say that aloud. But it doesn’t even seem to faze Hux, he just gets right on back to business. “Are you going to try to cast on yourself? It’s not too hard, is it?”

“No,” Kylo spits out, realizing he sounds more like a petulant child than the leader of the galaxy.

He starts though, easily making the slipknot, then trying to remember the correct ways to move the needles, instead of how Hux’s hands felt moving over his, or the sound of Hux’s voice counting stitches, completely void of the shrill, clipped tone he was accustomed to.  But somehow, he remembers the movements, and begins pulling loop after loop onto the needle, until he reaches twenty. His eyes dart to Hux, seeking approval.  Hux looks down and his nose scrunches for a quick second, appraising the work, before he meets Kylo’s waiting stare.  No part of Kylo is ready for the feeling of Hux’s hand on his knee. He curses the Force for not letting him anticipate it. “Well done, Supreme Leader.” Kylo swallows and nods, hoping his reaction went unnoticed. “Now, onto the knit stitch.” Over the next hour, it’s much of the same. Warm hands on his to teach him the movements, there’s even a damned children’s rhyme Hux repeats. They practice, row after row after row, until he’s doing it without Hux’s help. He gets through about ten or twelve rows and then holds it out so Hux can evaluate it. 

“Again, very good work.” Oh, and there it is again - the even pressure of Hux’s hand on his knee, hot even through the fabric. If he'd been wearing the normal stuffy fabric of his uniform, there's no way he'd be able to feel it. “You’ve got quite the knack for this, Supreme Leader.”  “Kylo.” It tumbles out of his mouth before he can help it. _Fuck._ Hux’s eyes latch on his, confused.  “Excuse me?” “My name, it’s Kylo.” “Of course, I know that, Supre—”

“Use it.”  _ And that came out much more forceful than I had intended. _

“I... is this a trick? The last person who called you that was thrown in the brig for insolence for two weeks.”  _Shit._ So, he does what any all powerful leader of the galaxy does.  “Kylo will do. When we are in here, alone.” He backpedals. Lowering the knitting and the needles back into his lap, he sits fully against the corner of the couch, angled toward Hux and waiting for his reaction. 

“Well then, Kylo, I must admit I was surprised at your invitation. I wouldn’t think this sort of thing would hold your interest…,” Hux tells him, gesturing towards the knitting, “And I haven't ever heard even the faintest rumors of you fraternizing with any of the crew in your spare time.” 

Since they've moved onto telling the truth now, Kylo figures he’ll say a few of the things that are on his mind. Not  _ the _ thing, no, but maybe he’ll work up to that. “And I had no idea you had this skill, or were quite so up-to-date on current fashion. It’s certainly a change from the norm.”

A smug look appears on Hux’s face as he also relaxes and settles into the cushions. “You can’t learn everything by going through my personnel file. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I’m sure there is.”

He means it, knows exactly what he’s trying to get across, and sees a hint of understanding pass across Hux’s face. Kylo really thinks this moment is it, after all the glances and innocent touching, that this is when Hux’s is finally going to reach out, pull his lips to Kylo’s, and put him out of his misery, but then --

“Do you want to move on to the purl stitch?” The general asks, and Kylo is disappointed to find absolutely zero trace of innuendo behind his words. 

“Is that next?” Hux nods. “Then sure, just…” He reaches up and massages his temples a second. “Let me go get something real quick.”

He feels Hux’s eyes tracking his movement as he rises from his seat in the couch and walks past him to disappear in his bedroom. When he returns, just a minute later, Hux stares at him, a gobsmacked look on his face.

“What?”  _ Please don’t say there’s food still on my face.  _ So he asks. “There’s not food on my face, is there?”

Hux squints at him. “What? Food on your…? Kylo, there’s not  _ food _ on your face, there’s  _ glasses _ .” Reaching out, he quickly taps on the matte black plastic side arm, then brings his hand back to his lap. “You talk about not knowing about me, and here you are wearing glasses I’ve never seen before.”

Kylo shrugs it off like they’re not a big deal. Because they’re not, but then he notices that Hux’s expression has changed from surprise to… something else. Approval? He can only hope.  “I only need them when my eyes get strained. Too much holonet reading, usually, but apparently staring at stitches does it after a while too.”

“Well, we should probably get some more light in here then.” It’s Kylo’s turn to be surprised when Hux scoots closer and then leans right across him, reaching out to turn the lamp up brighter. “Better?”

_ Until you stopped leaning over me. _

“Much,” he replies instead. It’s not completely false, the added light does help.

“Good. Let’s get started.”

Kylo takes the needles and project back into his hands, not flinching this time when Hux’s hands find their way right back to his. He’d rather have him laying across his lap, tending to more  _ pressing _ matters than the amount of light in the room… but if the next best thing is getting Hux’s hands on his for an unknown amount of time, so be it. 

As it turns out, this stitch is just backwards from what he just learned. There’s even a similar children’s rhyme, this time having to do with a fence and a sheep, which, of course, Hux starts to repeat. 

“...and off we leap,” Hux says again as he moves the needles in Kylo’s hands to pull another stitch from the left to the right. 

Kylo is trying to pay attention, really, he is. A part of him wants to be good at this, to show Hux he can do it and earn some small words of praise along the way. It should be enough, but it’s not, and his eyes keep wandering away from what his hands are doing and going up to Hux’s face, so close to his own, and marveling at how he’s almost a different person, with his hair falling into this eyes and his casual demeanor. 

And he repeats it, over and over, with each stitch he completes.

After, oh, it has to be seven or eight stitches, Hux goes to move the next and Kylo’s hands resist. He’s in over his head with how he’s feeling, from the proximity of him, how he smells different from the standard-issue body wash, to the way the entirety of this odd situation is making all of his emotions well up until he can’t stop himself from doing something. Kylo takes his left hand from under Hux’s, and places it on top of the man’s other hand.

His gaze is already trained at where Hux’s eyes will be when he looks up, and when he does, Kylo sees the exact same want in Hux’s eyes he knows must be evident in his. 

After a single tense second, Hux starts to breathe out a shaky  _ Kylo _ , barely getting it out before Kylo leans forward, pressing his lips to Hux’s and swallowing his own name before it fully escapes.

XxXxX

It was one thing to put his hands on Kylo’s to teach him, it could be rationalized as business-like, but when Kylo finally touches him, of his own accord, Hux isn’t going to hold back. 

He’s been dropping as obvious hints as possible since he walked in the door. 

Sure, Hux has kissed people before, plenty of them. Despite what the majority of the fleet probably assumes, that he’s some blushing maiden, that’s far from the truth. He shouldn’t be affected this much, but he is, even by the initial tentative press of lips. The feeling bubbling up in him is reminiscent of those first few awkward fumbles he’d experienced at the academy, making his insides feel effervescent and fizzy, though thankfully this time he has the knowledge of how all this works. It’s been years since then, and reason makes him think he shouldn’t feel this way.

But kissing this man, his Supreme Leader, the most powerful man in the galaxy?

He feels as if he may explode. Just… combust, right on the spot. 

And though he’s certain he’s much more experienced than Kylo, he so doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

With each passing moment, the push and pull between them grows more in sync, as if Kylo’s learning or remembering how this works. 

His hand goes into Kylo’s hair, running his fingers through the thick waves, loving the knowledge of what the Supreme Leader’s moans sound like, and also knowing he belongs to a very exclusive club of people who have ever been in this position. 

He takes the needles and everything else out of Kylo’s lap. It’s been so long since he’s been content to just makeout with someone, usually by now he’d been working Kylo’s shirt untucked and his pants off, usually being one to just get to the damn point. Instead, he scoots closer again and pulls Kylo’s legs across his lap. Though unsure yet of how far things would progress that evening, the one certain thing in Hux’s mind is that right now he wants to give Kylo no excuse to stop kissing him.

Not before long, Kylo’s hands grow bolder, starting to roam over every spot they can reach from the waist up. 

And Hux, despite everything he wants to stay and do, decides then that he wants  _ more. _ Not an awkward fuck that they’ll not talk about in the morning, or worse, maybe Kylo would do some Force  _ thing _ and wipe his memory.

“Wait, I think we should stop,” he says softly. As he pulls away, he sees confusion written all over Kylo’s face. Hux reaches out and puts a finger under Kylo’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Don’t be silly. I’d love to continue, really, but I don’t think we should get carried away too soon when we have plenty of time on our hands.”

“Is that so?” His cheeky tone tells Hux he’s relieved, and a smirk replaces the confusion.

“It is.” With that, Hux leans in and kisses Kylo’s forehead as he moves the man’s legs off his lap so he can get off the couch. He begins to gather his things, leaving the work he’d helped Kylo with on a side table. “I expect you to keep practicing and be ready for next time.” 

“Next time?” Hux hums in agreement. “I think I could stand to get a few more lessons. There's more to learn, I assume?”

Hux pulls his bag around his shoulders and takes a step closer, a hand going to Kylo’s hips, his thumb rubbing circles where he could feel the sharp bones. It was nice being almost the same height, only having to crane his neck up slightly to kiss Kylo. “Much more.”

“Oh?” He loves the sound of Kylo’s voice, breathy even after such a chaste peck.

“Yes. Like cabling.” He places another kiss on his lips. “Seed stitch.” His right cheek. “Garter stitch.” His jawline. “Purl two together.” A spot below his ear he discovered earlier. 

“I think I like the sound of that.” Part of Hux was wondering if he’d been reading too much into this, if somehow their thoughts on the situation at hand were not aligned. He gets his answer when Kylo leans in to kiss him briefly, then continues, much more self-assured.  “Same time next week?”

“It's a date.” He tries to make his reply sound nonchalant, crossing the room towards the exit as he speaks.

“Is it?”

Hux nods and flashes a wide toothy grin as he presses the button to open the door. It’s quite possibly the most forthcoming he’s been with his expressions all night. “Good night, Supreme Leader.”


End file.
